Escape
by MiniFruitbat
Summary: A group of students escape into the wilderness during the Great Panic. Rated T for language and some nudity. Chapter 12: A place to call home.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - China, Shattered**

**[Lilly Mason rejects the term "LaMOE." "Swiss Family Robinson" could be a more accurate description of our surroundings. I am seated on a stump at the Masons' rough-hewn kitchen table. The Mormon tea does little to settle my stomach as strong winds sway their treetop home. The crackled view through the plastic sheeting window is stunning nonetheless. I can understand why the Masons have resisted the option to relocate to a proper settlement.]**

We had an obsession. The apocalypse was just around the corner, we told ourselves. It had to be nuclear. It was inevitable, really. With so many silos and hidden, converted barns ready to fire plutonium across continents, we knew that was the way we'd go. Probably China, from the look of things.

Or so we thought.

**[She pauses to watch a spindly toddler playing on the rug. Chubby babies are still a thing of the past in many areas, although infant mortality is falling.]**

By midterms, our picture of the world was changing. First, the weird news stories we'd come across in physics... Rabies, riots, China falling silent. China was what worried us. They had nukes. They had the treasury. We thought these stories were a plant: something to take our enlightened minds off the radiation cloud horrors that were really coming! The end of the world was no longer just to shoot the shit while knocking back a few. It looked like it could happen for real. Tomorrow, even! Kate stopped coming to our parties. She said we were being stupid, that she didn't buy it. Our "discussion groups" took a more frantic tone. We started talking for real about making a stand. Guerilla tactics, we decided. Micah stole potassium iodide from the chemistry lab and hid it in a backpack filled with a fortune in dehydrated camping food.

_**Did these plans go into action?**_

No.

_**What did happen?**_

Lots.

**[She sighs, a half-smile flickering on her face. She begins again, albeit slowly.]**

Months went by and not so much as a blip on the media radar. _Zombies!_ was the new word thrown around the dwindling classes. People were getting scared, wanted to be with their families. And then there were more stories, Phalanx and all. Sophie was the only one to get it. She was the only one with good insurance. We congratulated ourselves on our foresight. _We_ chose a university in the mountains! _We_ were 100 miles from every city! Scholarships had nothing to do with it! But the cases rattled us. Campus TV even ran a report about a roomful of tourists on the way to the Grand Canyon. All infected, all locked in, right there in the city of Flagstaff! It was some of the best reporting they'd ever done.

By the time the Great Panic hit Phoenix, we were true believers. The living dead limping across our television screens, crawling up against cacti, throwing shadows against the citrus trees… No one could deny that this was our most pressing threat. Forget China. The living dead were snapping at our heels. At first it was only in the barrios. SWAT teams and county health would sweep in and "set things right" with black vans and automatic weapons. There were protests, a bit of cheering from the anti-immigration crowd, but they hushed up real fast after the Hensen affair.

**[The Hensen affair was a well-publicized zombie attack within the gated community of Saguaro Ranch. Mr. Patrick Hensen returned infected from an overseas business trip. Security cameras within the family mansion captured the attack and were heavily broadcast by several major news networks. Hensen relatives are currently involved in a lawsuit over royalties.]**

Cars started pouring through town. The highways were packed. Enterprising city planners started setting up detours, telling cars to drive around town, to not get bottle-necked on the two lanes of Route 66 that ran through the historic district. Cars ran straight through and ended up idling for hours. An ex-roommate of mine made bank selling snacks through car windows. She was gloating the last time I saw her. The rest of us knew it was time to go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Riot**

_**How did you make plans this time?**_

Carefully. We knew we had _some_ time. Phoenix, with its airport hubs and cramped quarters was over a hundred miles away. So was Vegas, so was Albuquerque, so was every place that mattered on a map. We heard about the undead following cars, lurching along the highways. News choppers were still broadcasting these early images. _Go north!_ screamed the television, more forcefully than in weeks past. _To Canada! To the frost line! Away!_

I argued with my boyfriend. He had a car, a shiny SUV that he liked to drive along well-marked, gravel roads. He thought we could make it across the deserts and the reservation, then drive across prairies all the way to the border. "Skip the highways, just keep driving north," he said. "Find a hunting lodge somewhere in Alberta. We'll have it made!" I pointed out that everywhere there was gas, there would be zombies. "Hundreds of other people will have the same idea!" Pravar agreed with me. Micah caved.

Our plans were laid rapidly, barking into our cell phones at anyone who would listen. We needed weapons; we needed food; we needed anything that could save our skins. I even tried to recruit a professor, but she was already gone.

We split up. Looking back, this is the part that always scares me. Going our separate ways amidst rising panic; trying to gather whatever supplies we could; not sure if we were going to see each other in time… I was in charge of WalMart. Micah, with his SUV, was in charge of groceries: as many as we could find and the most compact ones possible. Pravar had the outfitters on the east end of town; Sophie and Max were to try west, and then more groceries if they could. The big packs of rice and flour that no one ever seemed to buy had been dwindling on store shelves for weeks as hardier people stocked up. Now we kicked ourselves for not doing the same.

Together, we had brainstormed lists. I was to buy medicine and ammo, and even now I cannot remember what kind. Micah scribbled down specifications on a post-it that I clutched around my handlebars, weaving through the stalling traffic. At least the side streets were mostly clear, but crossing was a nightmare. I carried a hammer.

_**As a weapon?**_

Yes. Certainly not an effective choice, but it made me feel better to have it. At the entrance, locking my bike turned out to be a bad idea, but it seemed smart at the time.* You know those painter's loops they sew into jeans? As soon as I got off my bike, I shoved the claw in there. I can still feel the handle now, banging against my leg as I walked between the automatic doors and into a fresh breed of hell.

**[Her face twists uncomfortably.]**

_**The undead?**_

Not at first. I'd always been a bit of an agoraphobe, uncomfortable in giant crowds. This was the first time a crowd had made me panic. Everywhere you looked, there were people, people, people! I should have guessed from the cars in the lot, but this was beyond anything I had ever seen at Christmas, or even the one time I ventured out on Black Friday. I tried to elbow my way through the aisles, much like everyone else. I wasn't brutal though. Some people were even shoving kids.

**[She looks back towards her daughter. Ria sucks pensively on a wooden carving, oblivious to our conversation.]**

I unhooked the hammer. It was sharper, a better elbow. I felt calmer holding it, actually. Eventually I made it to the far wall where an even greater crush of people pushed and shouted and screamed at one another. Some had guns, whether freshly purchased or brought in for "protection," I couldn't say. The clerk was shouting, standing on top of a counter and trying to get people's attention and gesticulating wildly. "Limit three per customer" signs were posted everywhere. "Twenty-two shells are sold out!" was the only thing I could clearly hear. I stared at the crinkled post-it in my hand, trying to make out words that ran with inky sweat. That was enough for me. Waiting wasn't worth it. I ducked as low as I could and ran just as the rioting started.

**[Peering into my cup, she stands and refills it from the tiny aluminum kettle sitting in the ashes of the fireplace.]**

It's silly, really. People were blasted daily with pictures of mobs running from the scene of an outbreak, but all it takes is one idiot to yell "Fight! There's a fight!" and people rush in to see the action. Towards the entrance, I could see some mothers hurriedly shooing their kids out the door, laden down with bags and speed-walking back to cars and minivans. I kept sprinting towards the pharmacy section.

**[She sits back down, looking grimly satisfied.]**

This is what I gather happened: two dumb shits get in a fight. Someone gets the last shells on the lot. One steals an ammo can. One decks the guy. People take sides. Someone else gets decked.

Hard.

In the head.

You know those stories you hear about young, healthy guys dropped dead with one blow from a bar fight? That's what I think happened. Only the guy fell, and then got up. It's not unheard of, really. People were hiding infections from their families, trying to get them to safety before they themselves were a danger… Maybe they didn't even realize they were infected, thought that Phalanx or some shit would protect them. But anyways, someone reanimated. You could tell because the screaming took on a different tone.

At this point, I was shoving things into my basket like a good little shopper. Vitamins, tensors, band-aids, Neosporin, every painkiller and antihistamine I could find… I thought I was being clever, thinking of vitamins in a time like this. The pharmacist had slammed down the metal cage used to prevent thefts, but was watching anxiously between the bars. Even then, people with 9-5 jobs were intent on keeping those spots; they weren't about to abandon customers. We both heard it, that mournful moan beneath the chaos. Our eyes met. People were running in our direction now. He beckoned towards the side door and pulled me inside just as the first waves of the crowd stormed past, displays being knocked in every direction.

He was an elderly man, older than my father, probably getting close to retirement. "Dr. Greg," read his nametag, a show of corporate friendliness. A young family was already inside, sitting on the floor and looking shell-shocked. Their baby, strapped into a stroller, dropped his teething ring and started wailing as someone banged upon the steel bars.

"Come on!" the man at the window was shouting, waving a scrap of paper into the white-painted room. "Hurry up!" He kept whipping his head around, watching from all angles as the pharmacist tottered forward, gingerly taking what I now recognized as a printed prescription.

"This will t-take fifteen minutes to fill," stammered Dr. Greg. "I have to call it in." Even I could see how ridiculous that was – how _preposterous_ given the circumstances. "I-if you just wait right there…" he was saying.

I scoffed, probably loudly. The minute his attention was occupied, I had been sweeping boxes into my backpack. Forget the checkout. I used to be a good girl, never even stealing candy and never cheating on math tests. I took everything I could think of, which wasn't much. Packets of azithromycin, which I'd taken months back for strep throat, a cream I thought I remembered using one time, and puffers because Sophie had asthma. I was doing better than I thought possible! "H-hey," the father had begun reproachfully, watching me steal these things, but his wife shrieked. The man at the window had our benefactor by the lapels, twisting tightly and yelling in his face before letting go. I guess his resolve stiffened. As Dr. Greg dropped uncounted vicodin into a paper sack, the baby's father grabbed what must have been insulin from the fridge and loaded it beneath the buggy. It made me... sad. Diabetes in a time like this? Even then, I knew they didn't have a chance.

There was still screaming everywhere, perpetuated with moans and now with gunfire. Then the lights went out.

* * *

* Flagstaff used to lead the nation in bicycle thefts. Anecdotally, thefts skyrocketed nationwide in the days of the Great Panic, with mountain bikes and bike trailers most commonly reported missing. Today, grand theft velo has replaced grand theft auto on the docket bench.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Feasting and Squirreling**

_**I take it you made it out.**_

Yeah.

**[There is a commotion outside, and although Lilly is instantly alert, she quickly settles. There is a continuous clattering as a wiry, bearded man hoists a long-haired mutt up the steep and slatted ladder. In the doorway, he knocks the ladder over, tying an attached rope to a hook on the door. Yoko is an old dog. She limps over to a bedroll and lies down, gnawing on the elk bone left there. She seems comfortable.]**

When the power is cut, emergency doors pop open. All pharmacies have an extra door for deliveries, right? One with no handle on the outside and with special procedures for opening from the inside. Above the panic of people screaming – even more frantic now – you could just make out the _chunk_ as the magnetic bolt unlatched. We took off, no questions asked. That couple were still wrestling to maneuver the stroller out the door by the time I made it to my bike. People were still pouring out of the building, quite a few bloody and all completely terrified.

**[The man ignores us both and makes a beeline about the table for the crate I carried with me. The Unforgotten Ones is one of the most popular charities in post-war America, providing support and supplies to outposts not on the regular drop lists. I have already inspected the contents on my flight over. Books, parasite treatments, antibiotic pills, formula, a small bag of sweets, a short newsletter, and personal grooming items are among this seeming treasure. The newcomer rummages carefully, barely registering the medical supplies or food. He hugs one book to his chest before replacing it, triumphantly selects a pink razor, and disappears out the doorframe. My host seems unperturbed as she plunges on.]**

I wasted so much time with that _fucking_ lock. My hands were trembling – adrenaline, probably – and I kept dropping things from the baskets as I tried to undo it. It didn't help to have people bumping and shoving. I was afraid to look behind me, even before I was grabbed. It was reflex, really. I used to say that I had really bad reflexes because I was so bad in gym, but this was completely different. I swung up, without even looking. Even now, I'm not sure if the guy I hit was a zombie, or just trying to steal my bike. I try not to think about it. He looked kinda familiar, maybe someone I had seen walking downtown. I had to dig the claw out of his ear while he twitched.

I think it changes you, killing someone. I was numb the entire ride back. I'm sure I dropped stuff, not paying attention to it falling to the pavement, but I didn't care. I wasn't even scared. I took a different route and there was another big accident: a pileup holding back traffic for nearly a mile on a simple side street. I managed to get to the front because I could ride on the sidewalk, but at the very head of the line you could tell why we were stopped. One car was perpendicular, crashed into a lamppost at the median. The Jaws of Life were lying in the road, even though a jagged cut had already been made halfway through the door. Firefighters in full gear were conferring with a traffic cop. Why they hadn't put it down already I couldn't tell. Maybe they didn't carry guns and were waiting for a real cop or some other form of firepower. Or HazMat. The zombie was thrashing in the front seat. This is what you get for carrying tasers.

I had to walk my bike to cut through the nearest lot, but at least I made it past. I was home before I really knew it.

_**Did everyone else make it?**_

Actually, when I say "home," I really mean Micah's place. I had left a bunch of stuff there, clothes and so on. But I was the third one back. Micah's roomie – the only one left after the long weekend – had stayed behind and Pravar was already laying out supplies on the living room floor. I did the same, though I didn't have as many. We didn't really talk, but I knew we were both rattled. Fuzz just went upstairs after letting me in and never said a word.

Micah was back next, and pretty much flipping out. I'm guessing he saw something worse than me, though I never really asked him about it.

"Bite check!" was all I could get out of him at first. He was my boyfriend, and he wouldn't even _kiss_ me. We rolled up sleeves and shirts to satisfy him, then did the same to him for good measure.

_**Not pants?**_

We didn't think of that, actually. I'm sure we'd read about how to do a proper assessment, but we were a little naïve then. You have to give us some slack.

_**I don't mean – **_

Don't worry about it.

**[She waves me off. I didn't mean to offend.]**

I had a scratch on my arm, and I couldn't even remember getting it. Micah continued gibbering and ran for a thermometer.

"They're not teeth," Pravar was protesting, but I just went along with it. No fever, obviously, but I pretty much felt a pariah for the rest of the evening, especially when everyone was shooting furtive glances every few minutes. I helped unload the car and then we just waited. We didn't want to pack before Max and Sophie got back.

"If they're not back in an hour, we're barricading the door," was the consensus. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we had a couch against the rotting doorframe and plywood from the yard nailed into the windows. We were _so_ not getting back a security deposit. We fed the fish and waited some more.

_**But you have more than three here.**_

**[I gesture towards the Polaroid nailed to the wall. Five adults and a younger child stand smiling at the base of this very recognizable treehouse. Lilly is visibly pregnant here. The photo was taken as part of Sanjeet Dasgupta's famous study of defensible dwellings suitable for mass production. The report was published seven months ago and piqued my interest in this White Mountains colony.]**

That's not really related.

**[She waves her hand.]**

Oh, Max and Sophie made it back. _Kate_ actually showed up before they did. We hadn't expected her to come, but maybe she was starting to see sense. We did bite checks on all of them. Max and Soph had hit traffic when they stopped by their apartment and they were kinda pissed that we had locked them out. I told them they should have biked. Probably just as well that they didn't because they had a pretty awesome haul: what hiking gear they could find and groceries to top it off. It took all six of us at least three trips to get it inside the house. It was getting dark and we were antsy. Kate swore she saw something moving in the shadows. Sophie told me they had maxed out every single credit card between the two of them. Didn't surprise me at all.

Everything was piled in the living room, and there was only one thing left to do with it: pack. Micah ran upstairs and threw a few more blankets and sweaters in for consideration. Kate and I left the others to it and made ourselves at home in the kitchen. Fuzz joined us there, always a surprise as a master chef. We had all decided on what to do next, and that was to feast like never before.

_**To celebrate?**_

No, just because. There was food we knew we couldn't take with us: refrigeration wasn't going to be an option. We started with the crab. I haven't had it since, and I can still taste it, butter and all. Oh, it was freakin' delicious. Crab, leftover cake, applesauce, chips, cheeseburgers, croissants, chicken wings, milkshakes, lunchmeat… We ate everything from that fridge and everything we didn't think we'd need. Polished off the alcohol too.

_**I'll bet that was fun.**_

I didn't drink. Micah wouldn't let me, actually. He was still freaking out about that cut on my arm by the time midnight rolled around. The power had gone out and although it had been merely spotty for the last few days, it didn't come back on while we were there. I had to sleep alone. I got him back in the morning though. I think he half expected me to reanimate in my sleep, but I had the last laugh as the only one without a hangover.

Groggy, ecstatic, we loaded up. The cats had been outside all night and left us a present on the doorstep. It was a dead squirrel. It was nice of them, actually. We didn't feel so bad about leaving them behind if they could catch stuff like that. Yoko was coming, but we didn't pack a leash. She could keep up, or she could run off. It was up to her, although we'd seen an internet special about the use of bloodhounds as zombie detectors.* We didn't want to be tied down, although I loved my dog. Kate just couldn't take it. She took one last look at us piled down with sweaters, shotguns, and camping gear and took off running. We called after her and all, but I think I was kinda glad she wasn't coming. She never took us seriously.

* * *

*No one dog breed has yet to claim official superiority at viral detection.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**The Things We Carried**

_**Did your planning work out?**_

I think we did pretty well for ourselves, actually. Compared to many people, at least. Three of us had gone backpacking before, so we had at least some idea of what we were getting ourselves into. _How to Shit in the Woods_, if you will.* The China scenario had prepared us too. If there was ever a website about "Proper Dosing of Potassium Iodide" or "How to Catch and Skin a Rabbit," you could bet that at least one of us had clicked on it. So yeah, we had some advantages. Not much in the way of experience with this stuff, but confidence and a general idea of what we were doing.

_**Can you give an example of that?**_

Well, wet food – canned stuff – was almost right out. We knew that from camping. The only thing worth the weight way back then had been beer, and now we weren't even bothering with that. We had chosen the White Mountains because we knew there was so much water: permanent water at that. We weren't expecting the mountains to feed us or anything, but we figured we needed water and isolation. Flagstaff, sitting at the base of the San Francisco Peaks, would have plenty of people fleeing for Mt. Humphrey's or the surrounding highlands, but we'd been hiking there plenty of times and never found so much as a spring. Our maps confirmed that water was indeed scarce. The only water on _those_ mountains came from pump stations that drilled thousands of feet to the water table or tanks that ranchers set out for their beef. And even those were totally dependent on two things: spring melts and summer monsoons. And neither of _those_ were assured as there was a semi-permanent drought. Skiing had been light for the last few seasons.

Also, the thinking went, wouldn't every weekend hiker in Flagstaff eschew the exodus north and head to the mountain with its summer snowfall instead? We didn't want people.

People suck.

So we stayed clear. Did it work? Well at least we made it, probably because of what we brought with us. Lots of food, the antibiotics… We were lucky. Very lucky.

**[She pauses momentarily, a shadow crossing her face.]**

Just not always.

**[The silence now is noticeably awkward. Lilly begins to fidget, then gets up to retrieve a piece of paper tacked to the treehouse wall.]**

These were the things we carried.

**[She passes me a list torn from an old school notebook.]**

It's a Tim O'Brien line.* Although his were more about regret and responsibility.

**[She shrugs as I begin to read through the list. Many items have been scratched out or annotated with words like '3 left' and the paper is beginning to yellow. Still, it is an invaluable resource.]**

I guess we had that too.

_**Do you mind if I keep this?**_

**[Lilly looks surprised.]**

Y-yeah, sure.

It's a bit technical…

Are you sure you want it?

**[I have included portions of the list for reference. The full version can be accessed in Appendix C – Supply List for a Successful Family-Size Group.]**

4 winter weight synthetic sleeping bags  
2 canvas sleeping bags  
2 blankets  
1 hiking rack  
3 interior frame hiking packs  
1 messenger bag (ripped)  
3 backpacks  
1 string laundry bag  
2 Swiss army knives  
3 kitchen knives  
2 hunting knives (1 folding)  
1 aluminum canteen  
4 Nalgene bottles (Gatorade)  
9 1.5L bottles of water  
500 water purification tables (1000L)  
7 sweatshirts (5 w/ drawstrings)  
4 pairs hiking boots  
1 pair sneakers  
10 pairs socks  
5 pairs underwear  
2 bras  
1 tank top  
8 T-shirts  
6 pairs gloves  
5 winter hats  
2 scarves  
2 pairs prescription glasses  
1 pair work gloves  
5 lanyards  
6 butane lighters  
2 packs matches (70 total)  
2 rolls duct tape  
1 aluminum hiking kettle  
1 deep saucepan  
2 tensors  
14 bungee cords  
1 flat-blade metal shovel  
1 hammer  
1 box 2" screws (~200)

**[Lilly has been following my finger as I trace along the page. She lifts the lanyard from around her neck, depositing a silvery Swiss army knife and a battered lighter – likely her most useful possessions – on the table.]**

My pocket knife has a Philips screwdriver on it.

**[I have continued reading.]**

1 box 2 ½" nails (~200)  
2 bottles ibuprofen (200 total)  
16 packs azithromycin  
2 bottles Tylenol (500 total)  
4 puffers  
3 bottles Benadryl (600 total)

Allergies.

**[Lilly swings the lanyard back around her neck.]**

6 forks  
6 spoons  
3 long sleeve shirts  
2 hatchets  
3 lengths of rope (216 ft total, + _drawstrings, etc. Be creative!_)  
1 pocket first aid guide  
"Edible Plants of North America"  
3 winter jackets  
6 roll-up raincoats  
2 tarps  
24 large Ziploc bags  
5 packs Immodium (antidiarrheal, 30 treatments)  
1 iPod  
25g KI  
8 metal tent pegs  
1 tube cortisone  
3 tubes bactroban  
1 tube Neosporin  
50 lbs dog food  
1 plastic water tank filled with beans

**[I have to stop here.]**

_**Beans?**_

Yeah, beans. Dried beans in a million different flavors. Well, not really, but we didn't exactly bother to sort them. I think there was a bit of rice at the bottom too. We just poured it all in.

_**Instead of water?**_

We were pretty sure that we'd have water, as I said. And it was heavy enough as-is. It was food we were worried about. We weren't expecting deer to drop dead in front of us or anything like that. I'm not entirely sure what we were originally going to do about food. We had seeds – enough for a normal kitchen garden – but it was later in the year and I'm sure it was on the back of all our minds that we didn't have enough of anything with us. There's only so much you can take with you. The tank was useful though. Transporting stuff, carrying it all was going to be a problem. Eventually the plan was to store water in this thing.

**[She's right. A large blue water tank, the kind that topped plenty of prewar office water coolers, is corded to the base of a nearby tree. I noticed it as I walked up. A hand pump is now attached. Lilly sees my neck craning to review this from the window.]**

It's an old soap pump.

_**Good job.**_

**[I smile appreciatively.]**

Keep reading, we worked hard on that!

**[She laughs grimly. Ria begins to cry.]**

_**Sorry.**_

**[I return to the list. Lilly picks up her fussing daughter and returns to the table, narrating all the while.]**

The list was one of the first things we made. We started it while we were packing, but it got edited a lot once we started making camp. We kept finding things in each others' pockets that we had forgotten about or just slipped in because we wanted them. The iPod was a good example. It was Sophie's, and don't believe for a second that she thought we'd get more than one charge out of it because that would just be stupid. It did end up being useful though. Those earbuds are pretty sturdy ties. And when we were driving, it certainly kept us occupied. I think it must have occurred to us that if we were leaving civilization for good, that meant leaving all of it: including pop music on demand.

By this time, even the ever-cheery radio waves were filled with dire warnings and predictions of apocalypse, reports of flipped cars with flaming zombies staggering beside them… Not very useful things. We'd tune in once in a while to see if we could hear any news about road closures, but the news was never reliable. We ended up offroading quite a bit just to get around stalled cars. The good thing about Arizona is that nobody bothers with bridges and such. ...But the iPod kept us sane. Micah had a little clicker in his car, one of those neat little things you could use to tune MP3s to any empty radio station, so we did that and sang along. Quite badly, I might add. It sure beat the roadkill game.

**[I look up from the list, startled.]**

_**The roadkill game?**_

Exactly what it sounds like. We used to play it on the way home for the weekends, calling out roadkill as we passed. You know, "skunk," "rabbit," "elk," "half an elk," always deadpanning… Certainly not the most tasteful game ever, but we found it hilarious. "Dead guy," "zombie," "dead guy eating a dead guy," didn't exactly have the same appeal, especially when traffic was moving slowly.

_**Did you see a lot of that?**_

Yeah.

**[Lilly is suddenly very interested in Ria's appearance. Hand shaking, she smoothes her toddler's curly hair and tucks a lock behind her ear. Ria is more interested in the folio in front of her, smacking her palms awkwardly on the table. Lilly sniffs, her eyes oddly bright. Composing herself, she continues.]**

It's funny how quickly you get used to seeing zombies. There we were, loaded into a car – SUV – so tightly packed that you had backpacks balanced on your knees, and the only thing we could truly see were other frantic families freaking out on the side of the road, hood popped and everyone standing around as zombies lurched towards them. Or the guy taking a piss by the side of the road suddenly set upon… That almost happened to me.

We were offroading at this point, but next to the highway where it was flat. Few people were bothering to do that, it seems. But it looked clear, so we jumped out to stretch our legs and water some plants. I think Pravar was the first to hear it. He had that frightened look on. I could see him over top of a bush. But then Soph and I heard it too: that moan that was too close for comfort. We hightailed it back to the car. Micah was standing guard, making sure no one nabbed our supplies, and he tossed me a gun.

**[She shakes her head.]**

A _gun_. Seriously.

**[She gestures towards the shotgun pegged against the wall.]**

I couldn't shoot worth shit. My boyfriend kept inviting me to go hunting - to bring down some rabbits with his roommates - and I just couldn't bear it. To trust a kid who couldn't hit a volleyball to save her life with a rifle that could easily take one... It just seemed so ridiculous. I'd never really liked guns.

**[She fumbles awkwardly, twisting the back of Ria's loose-fitting tunic in her hands.]**

I could have brought them down.

**[Lilly's face is growing blotchy. I reach out to touch her hand and she looks momentarily terrified.]**

** _Perhaps I should stop here._**

**

* * *

**

*The title of a frequently-referenced pre-war guidebook by Kathleen Meyer.  
*_The Things We Carried_, a book of essays about the Vietnam War by Tim O'Brien.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Number Four**

**[It takes Lilly some time to calm down. By this point, the man from earlier has reappeared in the doorway. Sloppily shaven with fresh blood staining his cheeks, his triumphant countenance is quickly replaced by a look of concern. "Max?" he asks by way of confirmation, lifting the whimpering toddler from her arms. Lilly hiccups and moves to dry her eyes. The interview is resuming.]**

_**Are you ready?**_

I have to be.

**[Taking comfort from a squeeze on the shoulder, my host steels herself. Ria is taken outside.]**

Max was farthest away and closest to _them_. Judging from the car, I'd say seafood didn't agree with him so he wanted a little distance. We called to him, and he must have seen us running. But he was so _slow_! There was one right behind him. A couple, actually. A man and a woman, both in pajamas and spilling ooze down their fronts. Probably husband and wife. Together even in death. Max must have walked right up to them as they were coming out of a stand of trees. He yanked up his pants and took off, but somewhere along the line he tripped.

Classic horror film, right? The screaming girls, the untimely tumble with zombies right behind…

I took a shot and it did absolutely nothing. _Nothing_. I never even got a second in because Micah was screaming about flipping the bolt and I had no idea what that meant and just kept wrestling with the trigger… He took it from me eventually, but it was just so much time wasted.

You're supposed to be able to outrun a zombie, right? You're supposed to be that much faster. But Max, again with his pants around his knees just couldn't do it. He must have panicked. Understandable, really. Caught with his pants down, falling, so far away… At this point he was struggling, trying to either kick his pants over his shoes or do up the belt buckle, I'm not sure. Preventative measure so he wouldn't trip again? I keep going over this. It's just one long series of _failures_.

This is the kicker, or maybe the killer. Are you ready for this?

**[I nod.]**

A _zombie_ tripped too. There must have been a rock or a rabbit hole or something to get them both, but it happened. A one in a million chance, or maybe you know more about this than me?

_**That's deflecting. Please, keep going.**_

Now maybe he would have been alright if it had gone down differently. Maybe the six feet or so gained by a falling zombie was all he really needed. But it definitely grabbed him, and he definitely screamed. A little girl scream, the kind that makes you cover your ears in the theater, even if they've adjusted the volume.

Anyways, he got back up. Not up as in reanimated or anything like that, he just got up and started running again. Kicked it in the face, kicked loose, something like that. He didn't have his pants, so I guess that's what he was doing. Dodge the other one, head for the car…

Micah let off a shot, but missed the head. Pravar and Soph and I were in the car already, Sophie in the driver's seat. "Get in the car!" someone shrieked. It might even have been me.

Micah was reloading, and Max was running now, faster than ever although he limped a bit. He was gaining plenty of ground, so Micah didn't shoot. He got in the car.

Out of breath, Max jogged up to us, expecting to get in. Even in the tall grass, we could see the blood around his ankle. Dark, like mud or shit, but far more sinister. Sophie squeaked. "A little help?" he asked, trying to be calm.

"Lock the door."

I said it; I get the blame. Max looked at us like we were crazy, but _his _eyes were pretty crazed at this point. "Come on, guys," he was pleading. "I didn't get bit. I just bashed it on a rock." Micah and Sophie were up front, Sophie's hands trembling on the steering wheel. Pravar and I were in the back, sitting with Yoko who'd had the sense to bound back in. Micah was staring at Max with a look of disgust as his palms left streaks upon the windows. "They're coming!" Max was yelling, moving to the other side of the car to treat with more of us and gesturing towards the shambling zombies. They were both back on their feet. Sophie's elbow strayed towards the automatic lock. She _was_ his girlfriend, after all. "_Sophie…_" Micah could sound downright dangerous at times. She yanked the car out of park and spun turf, or seemed to. We left him in the field, but even over all that noise, we could hear him screaming.

_**Could you hear what he was saying?**_

"I hate you! I HATE YOU!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Running on Empty**

Sophie drove like a maniac until Micah yelled at her to stop. We came to a rest with a soft thump in a field much like the one we had just left. We were all nervous, searching through the windows for signs of more zombies, but we only saw one along the distant highway. Sophie took in the sights and burst into tears, head down on the steering wheel. Micah clambered over her to reclaim the driver's seat, shifting her rather gruffly onto the passenger's side. He did up her seat belt for her though, which was nice enough.

We angled closer to the highway in case it cleared and started driving in silence. The iPod was dead.

_**As was Max?**_

Unknown.

It was an awkward ride. Half of us weren't even really sure he _had_ been bitten, though we must have known it deep down. Pravar started to say something about going back to check on him, but he shut up with a look from Micah. We all knew the ground rules.

_**Ground rules?**_

We had planned for this, remember. And one rule was to take no chances with bites.

_**But you…**_

That wasn't a bite.

**[She shakes her head, the faraway look returning.]**

I don't think Sophie ever forgave us.

_**Do you think she will?**_

It's too late for that.

**[Once again, my eyes drift to the Polaroid photo tacked to the wall. Even with smiling faces, everyone's expression is vaguely haunted. It's a feature present in most of Earth's remaining population. Noticing what has captured my attention, Lilly coughs discreetly and changes the subject.]**

Here's something we didn't think about: offroading eats up a lot of gas. And there _was_ no gas to refill with. We were lucky to get back on a side road and make it past the little town at the foot of the mountain range. Our indicator swung briefly away from "empty" every time we coasted down a hill, but that was it. The roads themselves were mostly empty, but every so often you'd see cars abandoned on the side of the road or evidence of some sort of attack. _Flagstaff_ hadn't been so bad when we left, and this was even more remote. It was like a ghost town, bullets riddling the hand-painted "Dance and BBQ Every Friday!" sign by the general store. I don't know what happened there. Nick could tell you more.

**[We have not been introduced.]**

_**Nick?**_

He'll be by later.

I have some theories though. Maybe everyone was organized, got out early. Maybe they all turned into zombies and lurched _en masse_ towards the highway where it was louder, crunchier, juicier…

We did see a couple houses that were boarded up, barbed wire wrapped around their gates. These were hardy people – hunting stock. We weren't surprised to see some had stuck around. I swear we even saw one guy working on a palisade. Once we figured out that he was breathing, it seemed like a good idea.

_**Did you try to make contact with anyone that might be in town?**_

We didn't go close. The blood on doors was warning enough.

We were glad we weren't stranded there.

_**So the gas lasted a bit longer?**_

When you're running on empty, you really have about 20 miles left. Just not if you're offroading or driving up a mountain. Our car got us farther than town, but not much farther. We had our road map out, or I did, and Pravar and I were carefully selecting potential parking spots.

_**Why multiples?**_

Just in case. We decided against the first two turnoffs: one had a bunch of cars and the other had a little campsite sign, which probably meant a few people setting up shop. We passed one truck loaded with ransacked gear, the windows inside smeared with blood. One door was open. That was pretty ominous. We could have raided it some more, but we weren't sure we'd be able to get the car to start back up.

_**You didn't check it for gas?**_

That would have been a good idea, actually. But no, we kept going. Gas was getting critical. Eventually the car just spluttered and started rolling backwards. I think Sophie must have shrieked, but Micah was a good driver. He steered us towards the side of the road and pulled the emergency brake for good measure. That was the first tree we felled.

_**I can see there have been plenty more.**_

**[Lilly treats me to a genuine smile. She is indubitably proud of the hand-built settlement.]**

We weren't as deep as we wanted to be. We were some distance from the next trailhead we had circled, but maybe that was OK. Now came the hard part: getting from point A to point B.

_**You had a destination in mind?**_

Of sorts. Ideally, we were hoping to reach the fire watchtower. Those were getting rarer thanks to aerial surveillance and whatever other tricks the Forest Service got up to, but one was clearly marked on our map. We figured it was probably a vain hope – that some local had got to it first – but it was worth trying. There was only one within any reasonable distance from a spring.

And now came another realization: we had too much stuff. That was very clear. Without Max and Kate, suddenly we had extra supplies, but no way to carry them. We weren't sure if we'd ever make it back to the car, either. Sophie had started crying again, quietly. Max and Pravar just looked at each other.

"Get on top of the car," said Micah, dragging the shovel from the top of the pile in the trunk. Pravar helped Sophie scramble on top of the roof. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, searching everywhere for zombies as part of a new habit. Micah gave me a cursory kiss, a boost, and then handed me the shovel with a somewhat resentful look. After Pravar, Max had been his best friend. Any other time I might have been mad at him, righteous feminist anger at his obvious dismissal, but Sophie needed me. We stood on top of the car with arms wrapped around each other, turning every so often and keeping watch while the boys repacked. Sophie sobbed and Pravar kept calling too-cheerful questions to keep us involved. I thought about smacking him with the shovel.

_**That annoying, huh?**_

**[This makes her laugh.]**

Ha. He would have deserved it though.

It was starting to get dark. We had left early, but traffic and off road detours had messed with our plans. Even leaves rustling made us jump. Finding his LED headlamp and a second one for me calmed Micah down somewhat. One car passed us, heading in the opposite direction, but they didn't even slow down. We would have done the same.

This was supposed to be the greatest adventure of our lives, but I think we just felt numb. Even the guttural moans that soon joined us could do little to change that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Into the Dark**

_**Your dog didn't warn you of their approach?**_

Oh, Yoko was going mad, barking and running around the car. We soon figured out what was bothering her; we could hear it too.

_**The moans?**_

**[Lilly mimics a half-hearted groan.]**

I'm not very good at those.

_**You try that often?**_

Nah.

**[She sips from her cup serenely, though the drink has long since grown cold.]**

We didn't want the noise to attract more, so Pravar caught Yoko's collar and shoved her back in the car and slammed down the trunk. "Get on the roof!" "They're coming!" "Shhh!" "We need light!"

It would have been comical if we weren't terrified. Four students on the roof of an SUV, clutching a shovel, a jack, a hammer – actually, no, I wasn't holding that – and Pravar had a cleaver, and Micah had the shotgun – it wouldn't have looked out of place at homecoming. It was that strange. Everything around us was tinted blue as the last little ray of pink in the sky ducked beyond our sight. Thank goodness for the headlamps. They were pretty much a life saver. Micah and I stood on opposite ends, sweeping with the LED lights for any movement. A squirrel darting across the road made Pravar slide startled halfway down the hood, putting a decent crack in the windshield in the process. He scrambled back up just as the first of them stumbled into our little wavering circle of light.

It's hard to go from twilight to lamplight. It made things difficult. We couldn't see exactly what we were doing and Sophie was completely flipping out. I'm glad she didn't have the cleaver. Could have lost an arm. Micah hauled Pravar and his blade upright as the first one lunged towards the car. He nearly lost his footing in the process, jostled by a hysterical Sophie. I clobbered one with the shovel. I'm not sure if it worked or not. I moved right to the next one.

_**There were four people on the car roof. There must not have been much room to maneuver. **_

Barely any, and as I said, Sophie was not helping. We would have had an easier time of it if we'd just shoved her off or locked her in the car ahead of time, but even if it seemed like she had a death wish now, there was no way we could do that. There were more than we thought – a regular mob – all lurching and moaning and swiping and grabbing and we were doing everything we could to keep them from getting too close. One ravaged fellow was wearing a hiking rack, and some looked like they might have been from the town we passed. What they were doing in such a crowd, I don't know. I guess they kinda end up in groups whenever there's noise.

Micah unloaded two close range shots, the kick from the shotgun rocking the car almost as much as Yoko on the inside. She was bouncing from seat to seat barking frantically all the while. Every time she moved, we wobbled also. Micah actually got those two in the head though. Or at least that's what Pravar yelled: our first dent in a very long night. I'm pretty sure I was splattered, and I'm very glad none of us got it in the eye or something.

**[She looks up, now unsure.]**

It can spread that way, right? We never found out for certain. It's not like one of those silly vampire myths, is it? Garlic, and all?

_**No, think like AIDS. Mucus membranes, blood.**_

**[Lilly's eyebrows twitch.]**

Zombie sex? Did anyone ever try that?

_**Certainly no one who lived to talk about it.**_*

I should think not.

…Seriously though, people are _sick_, aren't they!

_**Can we get back to the interview? You were telling me about an attack on the car.**_

Oh, ah –

_**If this is difficult, we can always take a break. Talk about something easier, you know?**_

Oh, no, no! It's ok. That's why you're here. That was probably our first Great Victory, really.

**[She emphasizes the words, giving them weight.]**

It's not one of those sad stories. More of an uplifting "let's go kill zombies!" Tarantino feel than anything.

**[Lilly's voice is pitched somewhat higher than usual.]**

_**Are you sure you're OK?**_

**[She slowly exhales.]**

Yeah. It was just… nerve-wracking.

_**No shame in that.**_

No.

We did good.

We did good and I ought to slap myself for saying that. We did_ well_. I used to be an English major, you know. I used to write essays on the devolution of the English language and how slang nonsense like that was destroying the grammatical foundations of _good_ communication. I really did talk like that – _write. _

_**That explains a lot, actually.**_

Is it that obvious?

_**I was thinking more along the lines of "poetic."**_

**[My host blushes.]**

Not so much.

I mean, I try sometimes. You go over events so often in your head that you start to phrase them with the perfect words to match… But we never really talk about this stuff, so I guess it gets wasted.

**[She rests her chin in her hand, a dreamy look overtaking her before she jerks upright.]**

_God! _It's so _good_ just to have somebody to talk to!

* * *

*Credible reports of purely sexual transmission by the Solanum virus remain unverified.


	8. Chapter 8

**Dispatch**

That's enough of that, I suppose. The point is we got out of there, right?

_**Shall we move on?**_

May as well.

**[She pauses to reconsider, then returns to the story at hand with a shrug and a grunt.]**

I'd never seen so many in one place. Maybe that is what had happened to the town. There were more than a dozen of them, all piled around the car!

**[Lilly flushes.]**

Though I'm sure people have seen more. We read about a lot of those "famous stands" with thousands of zombies.

…It was just… more than I'd ever seen in one place. I can't speak for everyone. How we killed them all with no one being bit, I'm not sure. We had to be really careful getting down from the roof because we weren't sure we'd caught them all. Everyone was afraid of a blotchy hand suddenly wrapping around their leg. "Are any moving?" Pravar asked. Micah and I had the headlamps, and we didn't think so. We climbed down over the hood and tried not to step on any of them, jumping as far away from the SUV as we could. I tripped a little and skinned my knuckles. "Use the shovel," said Micah, directing me to turn the bodies over with the blade. The topmost one had Pravar's cleaver sunk into its bald pate, and still more were dripping eyes and ooze where shotgun blasts had peppered their faces. Sophie got at least one and a good number of them had deep gashes where the flat peat shovel had bit through their skulls with sharp edges. It was a weapon purpose-built for that situation, I think. And useful for plenty of other things too.

**[Her eyes drift beyond the window towards the fence ringing their compound. Young pine trees form the backbone of this palisade and are sunk into the forest floor, resting in deep holes.]**

Not a single one stirred, though we had one scare with a flopping hand. Micah instantly put a second blast into the owner's head, though I'm pretty sure it was just from disturbing the heap. My ears were ringing and I used my foot and the shovel to behead them all anyways.

_**Behead?**_

We know now that that's not the best way*, but it made sense at the time. The neck's very squishy.

Besides, have you ever tried to balance on one leg holding a shovel against someone's forehead? Physics still applies to zombies. It requires a lot of force to puncture a freshly-turned skull. In the dark, it's quite tricky. And we were pretty sure these were dead anyways. We were just being careful.

The entire road was a mess. A bunch of the supplies were covered in gore and everything had been knocked about – pushed this way and that by a bunch of shuffling feet. We didn't think we had much hope of getting things back together in the dark and adrenaline can only take you so far.

_**You didn't feel that rush?**_

You would think that we were ready to march through the night, pumped up on fear and rage and determination. But it was a taxing day. Sophie was grieving – we all were, really – and remember that feeling that comes from spending an entire day driving or just watching movies or slumping over a computer?

**[I nod.]**

We felt like that. Drained. None of us wanted to move, not even to shift zombies away from the car doors.

**[She sighs.]**

But we did.

_**You were going to stay the night?**_

We did. We hadn't wanted to stay there and risk getting trapped inside the car with zombies all around, but we didn't see many other alternatives in the dark. We could climb trees, but how would we sleep? We could take turns sleeping on the roof where we could clear a little distance, but how would the others step around us? We could hide, but what good would that really do? Pravar and Sophie got in and curled up together with Yoko. It must have been uncomfortable, especially with Yoko shaking herself and whining. She was hungry. We ate a can of ravioli each – "wet" food specifically for the car – fed the rest to Yoko because it was nasty, and called it a night.

Micah started wandering around, picking up bits and pieces that had been dropped in the commotion: forks, clothes, aspirin, the other flashlight… I got on the roof and kept watch with the remaining headlamp. The idea was to wake Pravar up once one of us got tired. That way, some of us could get protected rest, and so long as those of us on guard didn't get bitten, we'd keep them all at bay.

_**Wouldn't the light attract more zombies?**_

Only one. We heard it moan from some way off, so it must have been on the road to make the noise travel. We knew now that we could take it. Micah got back on top of the car with me. We stood in the little cave our feet had made in the roof's skin, and he didn't say anything about how we had dented his car or anything like that. He just put his arm around me and held his shotgun and for the first time in a very long day – and in the pitch black with stinking bodies all around and a zombie limping ever closer – it felt like things were going to be OK.

* * *

*Simple beheading will not kill a zombie. The brain must be destroyed. Estimated casualty figures arising from improper dispatch of zombie corpses are available in Appendix B – Life and Death in Numbers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Such Great Heights**

**[Lilly is humming a tune that piques a memory of my own. For a moment, I remember driving with the radio turned down low, and then it's gone.]**

_**What is that?**_

Hmm?

_**The song. I like it.**_

_Such Great Heights_.* I can't even remember who it's by. It's been that long.

_**Seems familiar.**_

It's a love song. Isn't it funny how things like that will remind you of places even when they have nothing to do with them?

_**Like the watchtower?**_

Yeah. It just fits.

**[She settles back in the chair, lacing fingers behind her head.]**

I take it you want to know how that went? I mean, we're not there now.

_**If you please.**_

**[She hums a final bar and appears satisfied.]**

It took us days to reach the watchtower. We weren't orienteers or backwoodsmen. We didn't even carry a compass. We just followed the trails as best we could. We had two maps with us. Actually, three. One was the Arizona/New Mexico page ripped from Micah's Triple A handbook, but the other two were actually relevant. There was an expensive topographic map that Max and Sophie had bought from the outfitter's. The other was an eight-and-a-half by eleven printout from some hiking site Micah visited. It marked campgrounds, springs, and trails and not much else. You can guess which one we used.

**[The topographic one was too complex?]**

I was pretty good at reading it, actually. I had just taken a "Geography of the US" class for some world understanding credit, and I could both read contours and identify fault lines.

**[Pause.]**

_**That's an interesting skill set.**_

They really taught us bullshit, didn't they?

**[Laughs.]**

But that didn't last long. On the second day it rained – big, fat drops that soaked you instantly and tore through the map as if it were tissue. We tried to protect it, of course; tried to bend over it as we rushed to dig out ponchos or anything vaguely waterproof, but by the time we shoved it into a plastic bag with some teas we'd brought it resembled little more than a kindergarten art project.

_**I thought backwoods maps were meant to be sturdy?**_

So did I. Cheap knockoff, who knows? There was a lot of demand for them all of a sudden. Maybe they just didn't care anymore.

And we found out later that tossing it in with the tea was probably a bad idea. That didn't help much either.

_**Oh?**_

Soggy tea.

And it stained the map.

**[We sit drinking cold tea in silence.]**

_**Tell me more about this journey.**_

**[Lilly groans. She stretches appreciatively, remembering some long-past ache.]**

I have never been that sore in my life. The packs were heavy when we started off, but we were ready, we were energized! It seemed like we could go on forever without feeling it because our lives depended on what we'd brought. Two hours in, Sophie's moaning about the hiking backpack had us stop and switch just to shut her up. Fifteen minutes after that, Micah realized that external frames really did hurt. We tried to pad it with sweaters and a winter coat, but it was still brutal. We kept swapping, so we all ended up with bruises. Switching from the yellow one to one of the fancy internal frames was like dropping a fifty pound load in favor of air. Thank God for waist straps. And I'm glad I didn't have to carry the beans.

_**The beans?**_

The beans in the tub. When guys are just showing off to each other, they can lift it above their head and do squats and lift it with two fingers, but after an hour or so you start to cramp up. And if you keep shifting it from side to side it just gets worse. It was bulky. I couldn't get my arms around it properly. At some points we were simply rolling it along, hoping that it wouldn't burst open.

_**Did it ever?**_

Did it ever what?

_**Burst.**_

Oh.

Yeah, but not badly. The cap just came loose and spilled beans down half the trail. We were on a slope and it took a while to pick them all up. Not the best idea ever. We didn't do that again.

_**Do what?**_

Well, we'd been taking the easy route. Send one person to the bottom of the hill to catch it, then just letting it roll down the trail towards them. It gave us a break. Except for the last time when it spilled and we had to stop to gather them all up again. Thankfully not all of them. That would have been bad.

_**How so? Zombies on your tail?**_

God, no, but we didn't want the delay for starters. Tempers were wearing thin, and I'm pretty sure there was shouting involved when we had to stop and unload and crawl around after beans we'd never think of eating at home. It was muddy; it was cold; it was kinda gross. The ponchos had been ripped to shreds on branches and thorns and even cacti. They didn't provide much protection anymore. And we had to worry about mold, so the spilled beans all ended up in our pockets. Luckily there weren't too many. Some of them did get a bit moldy after a few days.

That's the kind of stuff we had to deal with. At night we'd lay down in the softest pocket of grass or pine needles or whatever we could find and conk out with empty bags of rehydrated food in our hands. Lying out in the open with wet clothes? I didn't think I'd ever been so cold. We tried to keep a cliff at our backs so there was one less route of attack, and the wind would just whip through whatever you tried to cover yourself with. There were lots of cliffs. Canyons everywhere. Pravar seemed to be a little weird about the height. I think he was afraid of sleepwalking or something.

That was how things went. Whenever we came across a section of creek we'd fill the water bottles and dutifully add our chlorine tablets. Who wants giardia in the middle of all this? Micah had special tablets that were supposed to chelate out the chlorine so it would taste normal. It was just ascorbic acid, so when that ran out, we started adding little bits of Emergen-C packets to them. That stuff's all just vitamin C, and too much to be good for you. We always split those. It seemed to work, although it always left floaters that you tried not to think about.

We were sore. We were so sore.

And after four days or so, we were finally there. We hadn't crossed a single zombie, not even at night. For all our aches, we felt good. Accomplished. And here we were, looking up at the fire watchtower.

* * *

* _Such Great Heights_, by the Postal Service. Released in 2003.


	10. Chapter 10

**Paradise Lost**

_**How did it feel, finally reaching your destination?**_

The relief was instantaneous. The place was perfect. The tower was beautiful. It was all wood – it must have been built in the thirties or something. Square and slanting with four posts driven into the earth at an angle and with a decent-sized cabin perched on top. There was a thick staircase built into the framework, but the bottom portion had been replaced with a sliding aluminum ladder. To keep tourists out, I guess. It had no windows – only open space – and was painted Forest Service Brown. A radio antenna atop it swayed in the wind. The paint was peeling and the joints looked a little rusty, but the tower was formidable. Our hopes sank just looking at it.

_**Why was that?**_

It was obviously inhabited.

A little metal shack had been added near the base, presumably to give rangers a more comfortable place to sleep. A generator was evident, and cans of gasoline were stacked next to it. Smoke trailed languidly from a tiny chimney and a vegetable garden had been sown throughout the clearing. Sophie plucked a green bean; it was the first fresh food we'd seen in days and she didn't care much for the rehydrated stuff. A shout rang out.

**[She pounds the table for dramatic effect.]**

"Back! Get away!"

We all jumped and edged away, but then Micah took a purposeful step forward. A face had appeared in the shadows of the tower's overhanging roof. A rifle glinted from within that enticing gloom. "_Hello-oo!_" called Micah, trying to sound particularly friendly. Pravar stepped up to join him. "Look, we just want to talk. We have lots of supplies. We're not gonna touch your stuff!" Sophie was shaking her head, pawing at my sleeve and trying to pull me back. She was getting ever more nervous since we left Max behind. Yoko didn't seem to mind. She was running around, sniffing at everything and wagging her tail. "I'm warning you!" yelled the voice. It was definitely a man, and older too. Pravar raised his hands slowly, tugging down his sleeves. "It's OK, we haven't been bitten." The rifle flicked from Micah to Pravar, then back to me and Soph. "You aren't coming up!"

The boys took another step forward, attempting to look casual. What did we want? To share the space? To drive him out? I'm not really sure. They both had the guns strapped to the back of their packs. The only way to reach them was to swing the entire bag around or call for me or Sophie.

Maybe I was imagining it, but I swear I heard a click. The next moment, the ground at Pravar's feet exploded. "_Aaargh!_" he was screaming, dancing around on one unbalanced leg. "What the fuck!? What the fuck!? What the fuck!?"

Now, firing a warning shot into the ground is perfectly legitimate, I'd say. But that _idiot_ didn't even think about the birdshot. Blood spurted and mixed with the dust in the air. The pellets had ripped holes in Pravar's jeans, and apparently his leg as well. "_WHAT THE FUCK!?_" echoed Micah, gripping Pravar by the shoulders. "FUCK OFF," boomed the reply.

We hightailed it out of there. Micah and I had limping Pravar by the arms and still managed to drag the beans. I tossed the shovel to Sophie, and she got it together and even remembered to call Yoko to us.

**[She looks affectionately towards the bed. Yoko is snoring breathily.]**

She's such a bad judge of character.

_**How would this compare with your other interactions with people?**_

We hadn't really dealt with anyone yet, but that was a pretty normal response for Old Man Sam.

_**Old Man Sam?**_

We never found out his real name, so we just called him that. Each of us would talk to him once in a while, whenever we got really bored or just needed to let off steam by yelling at somebody. He felt pretty bad about shooting Pravar, but that certainly didn't stop him from being a crazy old man. Sometimes we'd leave each other books. I'm pretty sure the army hauled him off in the end.

_**What makes you think that? They let this colony be.**_

Hauled off or just dealt with the easy way. He's certainly not there anymore. Nick's started moving stuff over to the tower, but I don't think he'll ever really leave. He put too much work into his place. But yes! Old Man Sam. That's who we were talking about. He was a crazy old man, and time just made him crazier. The crazy kept him alive though. I guess that's just the way it has to be.

Some of the other people we ran into were nice though. There were those backpackers… Let's see, what were their names?

**[Lilly taps her chin thoughtfully.]**

The guy was Adam… And then there was Carissa…

**[She searches for another name.]**

And Ashley.

_**Friends of yours?**_

Acquaintances. We ran into them on one of the trails – ate lunch together one day. We all shared a beer they had been saving. We ended up going our separate ways; each side thought the other was heading for disaster.

**[Her lip twists into a grimace.]**

They didn't make it.

_**How do you know that? You kept in touch? **_

We, uh, ran into some zombies with hiking racks. It wasn't that unusual, but these ones looked rather familiar. They were in pretty bad shape.

_**How so?**_

Skinny and shredded. They certainly didn't get a quick death, I can tell you that. And zombies don't fare too well out in these woods. There's so much to trip over and twigs and branches to gouge your eyes out. A zombie arm isn't going to look prettier if a pine tree scrapes off all the skin.

_**That's a… charming picture.**_

Pravar's leg didn't look much better, I can tell you that.

**[She frowns into her cup.]**

_Bastard_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: **This chapter contains swearing and nudity, but nothing sexual. If you aren't comfortable with that, a recap will be provided in chapter 12 so you don't miss anything important. Let me know if you think the rating should change. Reviews are always appreciated, guys!

* * *

**Fish Out of Water**

_**But Pravar wasn't finished or anything like that. You said it was birdshot.**_

Pravar could still walk, so we could move pretty quickly, but as soon as we made it down into the next valley, we collapsed in a heap. There was a creek with little ponds as it flowed down the slope, and Micah chugged from his water bottle before passing it around. He pulled out an empty one to refill. Yoko was way ahead of him, lapping up creek water greedily. Pravar hastily wiped tears from his eyes and rolled up his pants leg.

"Oh God," gasped Micah, catching a glimpse and turning white. He'd never liked the sight of people's blood. Nearly passed out in the kitchen when I cut myself one day. "Lilly, Sophie, you deal with this." He sat down on a nearby rock, head in his palm and gulping air.

Pravar gritted his teeth and poked at his leg. There was blood and dirt everywhere, but nothing seemed to be missing. Ugly black beads seemed embedded in his skin. It wasn't bleeding much. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said nobly. "Can't you get lead poisoning from bullets though?" "Birdshot," Micah corrected weakly.

"Sophie, will you _help_ me?" I snapped. I was getting impatient. Sophie threw down her pack and whirled around. She'd evidently got her breath back.

"You know what? Screw you, Lilly! Screw you! We all know this was _your_ fucking idea! This is the dumbest, the stupidest, th- th- the most _asinine_ idea ever!" I'd never seen Sophie quite like this. She'd had some pretty spectacular meltdowns back at school, but those were generally over grades and dirty dishes. Now she turned her back to us and started ripping off her clothes. We were all wearing more clothing than we really needed to save space in our packs. Part of it was to protect against scratches, the rest was just for portability. It was pretty brutal, actually. Sensible, Heidi-ish, but brutal. "I am _hot_, I am _tired_, Pravar just got _shot_, we're _hungry_, we're _never_ going to see real food again, we all smell like _ass_, I know _I've_ got blisters the size of eggs, and for _what_? For fucking what, Lilly? For _what_, Micah? We've got nowhere to go, there's a psycho with a gun out there, and they're eating people's _faces! _Their _faces!_" Her face was red, but she wasn't crying this time. She'd stripped completely and was wading into the water. "It's all so fucking pointless – _aaargh!_"

_**An attack?**_

No, she just slipped and fell. With a splash. A very angry splash, and that water was ice cold. It was pretty comical, and sad at the same time: blobby, self-conscious Sophie baring herself in front of boys because she was too frustrated and tired to care.

Pravar was sitting with his eyes screwed shut, turning pink from holding his breath, I guess. In all likelihood, this was the first naked chick he'd ever seen. We were always teasing him, trying to corrupt his innocence and all – back before all this. Micah was just staring at Sophie in disbelief.

"Well what the hell did you expect!?" I yelled back, hands on hips. This wasn't fair.

"We just left everyone! Everyone! I'm not going to see my sisters again, I'm not going to see my mom. We _left_ them behind. We left _Max! _And it's your fucking fault!" Sophie splashed the water like a two-year old, got herself wetter, and burst into tears in the middle of the creek.

I was at a loss for words.

_**Was it true?**_

What she said?

_**About your families.**_

Yeah.

**[Lilly looks at her hands. I can tell she chews her nails. I can also see she'll need some prompting.]**

_**So you guys fought.**_

It was the first of many fights. Sophie and I had been roommates freshman year, so we were used to being at each other's throats. No RAs* to run to this time.

_**But as I understand it, you always made up, even if it was just for the sake of the group.**_

There was always going to be Max between us. On some level, I'm _sure_ Sophie knew that we were right, that he probably had been bitten, but there was a lot of tension there. After we built our first place, we made a sort of little memorial for Max. Maximilian Oscar Alvarez, age twenty-one. Carved his name and birthday into a tree. For a while, Sophie kept leaving flowers there. We even planted some. We could take you there if you want to see.

_**No, no, that's not necessary.**_

Ah, right. More important things to talk about. Group unity and such.

**[She considers this, biting her lip thoughtfully as she searches for words.]**

This was a turning point for us. It really started to hit home that we only had each other; that things weren't going to be just like they were in college. A different dynamic, if you will. Hopping in the water was just the start of it. All of a sudden, we were just that much closer. Micah was the first to do it. Sophie had splashed him with her tantrum, and he splashed right back, then started undressing. It was hot that day. The water really did look inviting, and at least he kept his boxers on. It was my turn to stand there slack-jawed. "Come on, dude," he said, facing Pravar. "Get in there."

Pravar grunted and struggled to his feet, lip set with his rare determined look. He was trying to be brave. "Are you fucking _kidding _me?" I asked them both. "H-his _leg_, it needs to be cleaned. It's going to get infected. Antibiotics! Shit, we've gotta find this stuff! It's in the bags. Pravar, you got _shot_, for God's sake! What the hell are you doing?"

"Lilly," announced Pravar, sounding oddly authoritative, "_I'm_ the one who got shot. At this point, I don't give a _flying fuck_."

Pravar hardly ever swore and just today he was dropping f-bombs. Like I said, things were changing. "Come on, Lils," coaxed Micah, offering a hand to Pravar. "We'll get it cleaned up in the water. It's from a spring; it's clean. You'll see. It's not that bad." For someone who had earlier been ready to pass out at the sight of blood, Micah was seeming remarkably confident in this. After a bit of spluttering and shock at seeing Pravar's naked butt, I got undressed and joined them.

_**Bonding time?**_

I guess you could say that.

And much needed bathing.

"Guys," croaked Sophie as we crouched there shivering, trying to keep our bodies beneath the water, "I'm glad you're here."

"Look," said Pravar, jostling her with his elbow and pointing towards the somewhat-deeper water. "There's fish." He was right. Muddy brown minnows or something, the biggest six inches long. "See, Sophie? You won't starve."

He was answered by a hollow moan that echoed down our valley. Yoko had been splashing frantically in and out of the pool. I thought she had been playing, but I guess she was trying to get our attention. Micah scanned the crest, squinting against the afternoon sun. A lone figure thrashed against the backdrop of pine trees. "Aaw, _man_," he said, rising to his feet. "Of course."

* * *

*RA, resident assistant. The concept of placing older, more experienced residents in charge of small dormitory groups was adopted by many of the larger refugee settlements that relied on barrack-style housing. DeStRes credits the low-stress program with reducing resident tensions and limiting the need for patrols within overcrowded buildings.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: **I said I'd provide a recap for those skipping chapter 11, so here it is: basically, Sophie had a meltdown and the group met a lone zombie. Pravar deals with pain quite well and no one listens to Lilly.

My apologies for taking so long. I actually grew bored with my own story and wasn't sure how to launch into the next parts (which introduce new characters and involve more than just running) without seeming jumpy. Even another trip to the White Mountains didn't fix it!

* * *

**Homecoming**

_**What did you do? Climb trees?**_

There was just the one. Zombie, I mean. Moving a bit faster than usual because it was downhill, but still waddling more so than running. It was like we all stopped being afraid. None of the panicking, the desperate plans… Just one zombie. It all seemed so…

**[She struggles for the right word.]**

_...Minor_.

_**Wouldn't that level of unconcern lead you into danger?**_

It worked out quite well for us at first. Micah got to the shotgun pretty quickly and had it trained on the thing while the rest of us scrambled for clothes and our packs and everything. We wrapped up Pravar's leg pretty hastily, not even worrying about antibiotics and such this time. Bad idea, of course, but these things happen.

_**So you shot it?**_

Oh, yeah, but we had to wait a while for it to get really close. I guess we were at the point where it made more sense to get a perfect shot than stay as far away as possible. It was a strange feeling, like this sort of thing was starting to become normal for us.

And then we were back to humping it up the hill, up the canyon, feeling lighter and still hoping for that magical spot we could call home.

_**And you found such a place?**_

**[She cocks her head, an odd grin on her face.]**

What do you think?

"_**Home is where the heart is?"**_

Oh, not that at all. Well, I mean –

**[Lilly blusters for a moment.]**

…

This is all we have, this place.

**[She glances towards the door, nervous once more, or perhaps feeling guilty. She studies the empty cup once more, then replaces it with an audible clunk on the kitchen table.]**

And each other.

It's not our first, you know. Our first place. We just… couldn't stay. I mean, we got better at the carpentry and so on. It came to the point where we could salvage more and more and we eventually got to the point where it didn't take all day to split a log so we had more options, but yeah…

You probably don't need to hear all this. It's in that other book.*

_**I'd rather hear it from you.**_

The short version then.

_**It needn't be short.**_

Most of it is pretty boring, really. Days and days of wandering in all directions, mapping out the area and trying to reach established trails where maybe we could salvage something… Some pipe from those little bridges on walking trails, littered bottles, tent pegs, rebar… That was all later though. More than anything, we just needed a place to sleep. Somewhere dry, somewhere high. I think it was always in the back of our minds that come winter, things would be much different. Even sleeping on the ground in what was almost summer, I could wake up almost crying from the cold. Winter would be… rough and we needed to get started.

We had it all planned out, of course. This was part of the Plan, to live in trees. A platform couldn't be that hard to build, we reasoned. After all, people were building things with minimal technology for ages! We had a hammer, we had nails! We had built tiny spice racks and flower planters with our fathers, how much more difficult could it be? Of course, we had kinda neglected that plywood and so on were right out. It's easy to think "we'll build it out of logs" in the abstract, but how do you support that once it's off the ground? It took a long time – a _very_ long time – to get it right.

**[She twists around to check on the treehouse, seemingly reassuring herself.]**

I think we did. Eventually.**  
**

Later that day we came across a clearing. Much of the surrounding area had been burned out, fairly recently too. One of those big forest fires. Anyways, new aspens and raspberry canes just tangled through the area and we almost turned around. But we pushed through and at the very top of the hill there was this stand of trees, pretty much untouched. We stood staring, and that's when we knew. It wasn't pretty; it wasn't perfect; it wasn't near the water like we said we wanted. But it had trees in that perfect formation: crooks set so close to level that all of us could see a platform resting there. That was what we wanted; that was what we needed. Just a place to get started. A place to call home.

* * *

*_Defensible Dwellings for Mass Production in a Post-War Landscape _by Sanjeet Dasgupta, see chapter 3.


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